Nevertheless, there I was, perched at my keyboard at 11:59 last night in a rather desperate attempt to be the first person to wish my son, Daniel, a happy birthday on his Facebook page.
Just what every 21-year-old hopes for. And what any 57-year-old mother in her right mind truly should not do.
But I did it! And, thanks to my stealth typing skills, looks like I beat someone named Tes Sullivan to the first birthday greeting punch by, oh, 25 minutes.
Not that Daniel noticed, as he -- and rightfully so -- was out on the town following a fraternity soire. And this morning my greeting is at the bottom of the Facebook post pile under the vague heading "22 others". The price I pay for insisting on being first. But I'd do it again in a New York minute.
I would have tweeted Daniel's natal day celebratory message had my cell phone been charged. May do that yet today.
I also sent Daniel a traditional, tangible birthday card via the United States Postal Service earlier in the week. A card shaped like a glass of beer containing 21 dollars... and chock full of tiny, multi-colored star confetti that, if it went as planned, fluttered in all its glittery glory to Daniel's apartment floor upon the opening of said birthday card.
Over the top? Possibly. But wait! There's more!
After pouncing on Daniel's Facebook page and securing my rightful place as his first birthday well- wisher, I got the bright idea to Google "number one song on March 2 1993".
A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming...
Clearly a positive, upbeat little number...
As opposed to, I discovered next, the depressing, albeit toe-tapping, ditty that was at the top of the charts the day I was born: "Don't Be Cruel" by Elvis Presley.
You know I can be found (bop doo wop)
Sitting home all alone (bop doo wop),
If you can't come around (bop do wop),
At least please telephone.
Don't be cruel to a heart that's true...
Ironic, in retrospect, how that song pretty much set the tone for my dating life -- or lack thereof -- years later.
Unsettling, yes. But I couldn't stop there. Oh, no. Kept on Googling. The top song nationwide the day I turned 21 in 1977? Debby Boone's classic ripsnorter, "You Light Up My Life".
So many nights
I'd sit by my window
Waiting for someone
To sing me his song.
In fact, I spent an inordinate amount of time sitting in my dorm window the afternoon of my 21st birthday, waiting for someone named Tim to, if not sing me his song, at least wave as he walked by. He did neither.
However, long story short, a fun-loving freshman lad named Mike Ring (a dear friend across the miles to this day, I might add) surprised me with a delicious Baskin-Robbins ice cream cake, my girlfriends threw a surprise part for me and, save for my father ignoring my birthday altogether, I enjoyed my big day.
Yes, that's right. My father apparently forgot my 21st birthday.
Which explains, I suppose -- now that I think of it -- my elbowing Tes Sullivan out of her first place Facebook post, and the birthday card stuffed with all that tiny, multi-colored star confetti which more than likely is still dotting Daniel's apartment floor.
Juuust wanted to make sure he knew I remembered...
Happy 21st Birthday, Danny Boy! I love you!
P.S. I have no idea what song is at the top of the charts on this, your special day, darling. Suffice to say, I have probably never listened to it, and most likely wouldn't recognize the recording artist's name. I'm just that old and out of the loop. As you may recall, I, for the longest time, was convinced Gwen Steffani was singing "Ain't No Harlem Bat Girl", not "Ain't No Hollaback Girl". Hugs!
(Spoiler alert...it's the edited version.)